Blackadder II5: Another Bloody Curse
by Missy Mouse
Summary: Another random offering from yours truly. Hopefully might attempt some cuttingly witty humour, with a couple of sizzling pirates...
1. Default Chapter

Ok, first things first:  
  
I own nothing of this. Except possibly the plot. But nothing else, y'hear?  
  
Secondly, if you have never seen/heard Blackadder, then this will make very little sense to you. You are also, in my view, a deprived person, but that is merely my opinion.  
  
If you have never seen Pirates of the Caribbean, this will also make minimal sense to you. Again, I think you have been deprived.  
  
If you have never seen Pirates OR Blackadder, then there is no reason to read this. But, hey, if you want to...  
  
Thirdly: My choice of Blackadder series? Well, there is no series during the Golden Age of Piracy. Series two finishes just before; series three starts at the end. So, I picked series two. Basically it's my favourite, and there are a few characters I'd like to introduce the PotC gang to, who aren't in series three.  
  
Oh, and anyone know Gov. Swann's first name?  
  
That little speech said, I present, for your viewing pleasure;  
  
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Blackadder II.5: Yet Another Bloody Curse  
  
Chapter One: In which Elizabeth meets Elizabeth  
  
Elizabeth hated sewing. Already her fingers bled from various encounters with the needle. After pricking her sore fingers yet again, she threw down her work, and stormed out of the small, but well-furnished craft room.  
  
Her father sat in his office, leant over his rosewood desk, writing letters. It was at the opposite end of the short passage, so Elizabeth had a clear view from her place outside the craft room.  
  
"Father, I refuse to sew anymore! One more stitch and I'll bleed to death!"  
  
Her father, Governor Swann, put down his glasses tiredly, and blinked at his daughter.  
  
"Elizabeth, dear, it's not ladylike to say such things! A girl must learn to sew."  
  
"Not all women, father. I'm sure the ladies in Tortuga don't know one end of a needle from the other."  
  
Her father looked shocked at first, and then he seemed to gloss over Tortuga, by saying;  
  
"That's as maybe, but neither do you. And I might add that you're not a lady from Tortuga."  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence, and Elizabeth folded her arms with a sigh.  
  
"Elizabeth, are you wearing that corset?"  
  
"Of course not! Never again after I nearly drowned."  
  
"Really you ought to. It's fashionable to be petite, my dear."  
  
A loud, whiny voice cut through the air. It was like that of a female child, yet it sounded older.  
  
"Too right! You look pretty fat without one, and that's not fashionable at all!"  
  
Elizabeth spun round. A...something had filled the doorway. From the floor to about waist height, a large mass of sequined cloth flooded the doorway. Then, perched atop this glittering mound, was a woman. A woman who appeared to have no legs, but simply a tiny waist, balanced on the gargantuan skirt. Her hair was ginger and curly, piled on her head. She wore a sort of ruff, and a cross between a crown and a tiara on her piled up hair.  
  
The woman's face was quite young, but pointy and angular. Her nose was small and sharp, her eyes small and beady. Her lips were a perfect rosebud shape, now pursed in an annoyed way.  
  
"Do you know who I am?"  
  
The woman waved a jewel-encrusted sceptre. Its worth in gold coins could have bought the entire Port Royal navy, yet this woman waved it about like a rattle.  
  
But the scary thing was, was that Elizabeth did know this woman. Who hadn't seen the eternally young portraits? The powerful woman, clasping a globe in one hand, while dressed in amazing finery?  
  
"Yes, ma'am. I beg your pardon, your Majesty."  
  
"Hmm, well you ought to. I 'am' your queen."  
  
Elizabeth had dropped to a curtsy, her head bowed. Her father hastily muttered something humble, before dropping beside her. However, the Queen's last sentence worried Elizabeth.  
  
"I'm sorry, madam, but I thought King George II was our King." (A.N. I hope that's right.)  
  
"What? You filthy catholic! Guards, behead this girl!"  
  
The guards failed to appear with much panache. Elizabeth tried desperately to placate the Queen.  
  
"Ma'am, the Tudor family died many years ago! It is only by some miracle that you are here."  
  
The Queen considered this. She waved her sceptre absently. A happy little smile crept onto her previously venomous face.  
  
"Oh, alright! Gosh, this is exciting! What year is this?"  
  
"1721, ma'am."  
  
"Heavens! And what is your name?"  
  
"Elizabeth, Majesty. Elizabeth Swann."  
  
"Lord! How funny. My name's Elizabeth as well." Suddenly the Queen's face became angry. "But you call me Majesty or ma'am, or I'll knock your block off!"  
  
"Yes, of course, ma'am."  
  
The Queen was all smiles once more.  
  
"Goody! Now, I want to talk to sweet Lord Blackadder; where is he?"  
  
Elizabeth looked worriedly at her father. He stood up, and after a short bow, said;  
  
"I'm sorry madam, but I don't know of a Lord Blackadder in Port Royal."  
  
"Port Royale? Where's that?"  
  
"Port Royale is here, ma'am. It is a very prosperous place in Jamaica, in the Caribbean. Founded by the British Navy, a splendid body of men, whom--- "  
  
"Silence! Why am I not in England?"  
  
"I couldn't say, madam."  
  
"Hmph. Well, I want to go for a walk. You man, what's your name?"  
  
"Governor Swann, Majesty. I'm the protector of Port Royal."  
  
"Oh be quiet! Here, lead me round your grounds. I find it very stuffy and hot in here."  
  
Governor Swann took the proffered hand, and lead Queen Elizabeth I out into the sunshine. He shot a desperate look over his shoulder to his daughter. He mouthed a hurried sentence to her.  
  
Find Blackadder.  
  
Elizabeth nodded, and rushed out to the front door. She had to find Will, he'd know where to look. 


	2. In which Meltchett and ‘Cardinal Chunder...

Ok, next serving of mixed-up madness coming up!  
  
P.S. I do not pretend to be a comic genius such as Richard Curtis or Ben Elton. Therefore, I can only try my best...doesn't bother me; it's you who've got to suffer.  
  
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Chapter two: In which Meltchett and 'Cardinal Chunder' appear  
  
Jack was in Tortuga. Nothing too shocking about that. He was whistling the song Elizabeth had taught him, the song his crew had learned to hate. It was early morning, the sun was shining, men were having gunfights between opposing pubs, and the women were flaunting themselves with all the subtlety usually associated with Tortuga: none.  
  
The pirate ducked into a comparatively quiet establishment, and was immediately confronted by a strange sight, even by Tortuga's standards.  
  
Laying flat on his back on the floor was a man. He wore long robes, and a sort of hat. He had a neat beard, and a pudding-basin shaped hair cut. He was moaning something terrible while clutching his head and stomach.  
  
Another customer prodded the man with the detached leg of a barstool. The prone figure moaned louder.  
  
"What's wrong with 'im?"  
  
The man with the stool leg allowed a dry chuckle. He showed all of his teeth, or rather where they should be. Stumps were the only remnant.  
  
"'E's bin at the ale, Jack! 'ad half a sip and keeled over like sum sorta' pansy!"  
  
Jack knelt down, and poked the man in the shoulder. The clerical fellow sat up, and brushed Jack's finger away.  
  
"Un-hand me, sir! Where, pray, am I?"  
  
Jack leaned back, unsure. He eyed the retreating barstool man, who dropped his chair leg, and casually sauntered out.  
  
"You sure talk right pretty, Mr, but you're in no state to be askin' questions."  
  
"I shall do what I like! The Queen will hear of your impudence!"  
  
"Queen? I'm not a royal watcher, Mr, but I know damn sure you English 'ave a King."  
  
"What? Not Queen Elizabeth?"  
  
"No, she's dead. Where've you been?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Who are you? You don't sound very English."  
  
"Ah, me? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm from the rougher part of the Caribbean, mate. You?"  
  
"The Caribbean's a long way away, Mr Sparrow, isn't it?"  
  
"Firstly, I'm Captain Sparrow, secondly, no, this is the Caribbean."  
  
The man looked around the grimy tavern. The light from a window caught his eyes, and he winced and clutched his head.  
  
"I'm Lord Meltchett. Advisor to the Queen. At least I was..."  
  
"Oh? A lord? What in blazes you doin' 'ere? And drunk, of all things."  
  
"I am not drunk! I was merely handed the wrong beverage. Now, kindly return me to my home."  
  
"I'm not crossin' the Atlantic, only to be hung at the end for you or anybody, 'Lord'."  
  
"Confound you! Get me out of this God-Forsaken tavern!"  
  
Jack grabbed Meltchett's wrist, and hauled him upright. He shoved the grumbling man out into the Caribbean day. A faint scream was heard, followed by a string of curses.  
  
Jack was about to leave, when he heard a faint voice, singing.  
  
"See the little Goblin, See his little feet, Ten tiny toes-e-woesies, isn't the Goblin sweet?"  
  
Jack looked round the apparently empty pub. The only other person was a silent bartender, pretending to wipe down tables and clean glasses.  
  
Then, a tall, thin man appeared. He wore a black tunic, covered in sequins and glittering thread. He also wore a pair of black tights. Jack had to dry very hard not to laugh.  
  
The man drew nearer. He had a beard, of sorts, and black curly hair. He noticed Jack, and abruptly stopped singing.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
The voice was slurred by alcohol. Jack smiled in what he imagined was a friendly way.  
  
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate. Who are you?"  
  
The figure raised a self-important hand.  
  
"I, am Cardinal Chunder. And if you don't let me finish my song, I'll have the Queen behead you!"  
  
Jack smiled some more. Another nutcase. If it carried on like this, he'd have an entire crew as mad and drunk as he himself was. He caught a hold of the other's large sleeve, and pushed his way out into the sunlight.  
  
Meltchett was leaning against the wall, his hand clamped over his eyes. 'Cardinal Chunder' also seemed to prefer darkness, as he yelped in pain as the bright light hit his pickled senses.  
  
"Right, you two. I'm takin' ye to see some fancy friends o' mine. Perhaps you've got rich people fever, or something."  
  
Jack marched off toward his ship. Meltchett started weakly after him. However, he had another thought, and grudgingly grasped the other drunkard's sleeve. Together they tottered after the swaggering pirate. 


	3. In which Percy takes a Liberty

Wow! Third Chapter!  
  
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Chapter three: In which Percy takes a Liberty  
  
Will opened the secure lock of his blacksmith shop. He stepped into the humid darkness, the fire crackling merrily. As he closed the wooden door, a putrid smell filled his nostrils, and then his lungs. Coughing and gasping, he re-opened the door, wallowing in the clean air.  
  
Turning to find the source of the smell, he saw a man, standing in the middle of his shop.  
  
"Who are you? How'd you get in?"  
  
The small, unearthly smelling man sniffed. He wiped his grubby nose on his equally dirty sleeve.  
  
"I am Baldric, milord. I don't know how I got in."  
  
"Baldric? I don't know anyone called that. Where'd you live?"  
  
"The roof, milord."  
  
"The roof?"  
  
"Well, that's when he's in a good mood. Normally I sleep in the gutter."  
  
Will stared at the strange man. He stank, but Will was beginning to get used to that. His clothes were so horrid that he must be a servant.  
  
"Who is your master?"  
  
"Lord Blackadder, milord."  
  
"I've never heard of him. Where does he live?"  
  
"In London, in a big house. Near the Queen."  
  
"Which Queen?"  
  
Baldric rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, milord, I am stupid, but even I know who the Queen is. She's the ginger headed woman, what wears all those pretty dresses."  
  
"What's her name?"  
  
"Queen Elizabeth!"  
  
Will stared once more. Baldric picked a lump of mud off his coat, inspected it, and wolfed it down.  
  
There came a frantic knocking. Will gestured for Baldric to stay put, while he hurried to the half-open door. Elizabeth stood without, looking agitated.  
  
"Will! It's so strange! There's this Queen in our house, who looks like Queen Elizabeth!"  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes! She keeps asking for someone called Blackadder. Do you know anyone by that name?"  
  
"No, but the smelly servant in my workshop keeps asking for him as well. He also seems to think this is the Elizabethan Era."  
  
They looked at one another. Elizabeth took a step into the gloom. Almost at once she jumped back, repulsed.  
  
"What is that smell?"  
  
"That, fair Elizabeth, is Baldric."  
  
Once again, Will went inside, followed by Elizabeth, who wrinkled her nose distastefully at the pungent aroma. However, there was another man standing beside Baldric. He wore an orange tunic, with embroidered sleeves, and very small, daft looking ruff.  
  
"Oh, I say. Is this your house?"  
  
Will threw out his arm to keep Elizabeth away from the newcomer. The man smiled like an imbecile. He gave Elizabeth what he seemed to think passed as a charming grin, and sauntered toward her.  
  
"Well hello, pretty young lady you! Where've you been hiding, hmm?"  
  
Elizabeth eyed him stonily for a second, before slapping him soundly across the face.  
  
The man recoiled with a dainty yelp.  
  
"Mr Bladric, who is this?"  
  
"Ahh, that's Lord Percy Percy, milord."  
  
"Percy Percy?"  
  
"No milord. Lord Percy Percy!"  
  
The man newly named Percy, huffed in an uppity manner, and advanced on Will.  
  
"Yes, my good man. One such as yourself ought to show me some respect!"  
  
Will looked at Elizabeth. She straightened her skirts, and said:  
  
"If you two, er, gentlemen would accompany me, I'll escort you too your Queen."  
  
"Thank you, my young lass!"  
  
"Yes, thank you milady." 


	4. In which Elizabeth has a Tea Party

Ok, hopefully this chapter will have more humour, now that everyone is present and correct. At least most of them...  
  
Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, as well!  
  
*********************************************************** Chapter four: Elizabeth's Tea Party  
  
Lord Edmund Blackadder awoke to find himself swinging from side to side. His head was banging painfully. He attempted to climb out of the rough, canvas contraption that he lay in. A few seconds later his addled mind registered the pain of falling onto a hard wooden floor.  
  
"Where in God's name am I?"  
  
He looked around. Meltchett was snoring in a hammock not far off. Blackadder stood up with all the grace of an elephant in roller skates. The commotion woke Meltchett. He snorted, and fell out of bed.  
  
"Oh! Blackadder, it's you."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
The religious man stood up. The floor rocked alarmingly.  
  
"Good Lord! Blackadder, it is God's punishment, quick we must escape!"  
  
Meltchett scampered over to the stairs. The hammocks now swung like flags in a breeze. The cloaked man was hurled into the stairwell. He gave out quite an un-holy curse.  
  
Blackadder sniffed disdainfully. He looked round the grotty surroundings.  
  
"I don't think so, Meltchett. Although I'd like to be watching when you succumb to God's will, it will, sadly I fear, not be today. We are aboard ship!"  
  
He started up the stairs, taking care to stand as much on Meltchett as was physically possible.  
  
Out on deck, it was windy. There appeared to be no crewmembers about. Save one, tall-ish man, with over-long braided hair, a devil's beard and kohl- lined eyes.  
  
"Ahoy there! Are you a crewmember worth talking to, or am I wasting good oxygen?"  
  
The man turned to stare at him. Blackadder liked to think he could outstare a snake, but the man's gaze was intense. Blackadder looked away, but even then he called feel the man's eyes boring holes into his skull.  
  
"So? Who are you? Or are you a mute?"  
  
The braided man took three steps toward Blackadder. It was three steps too many.  
  
"I, my posh English passenger, am 'Captain' Jack Sparrow."  
  
Blackadder, unlike the newly arrived Meltchett, did not lean away from the Captain's breath. He was used to far worse aromas at home with Baldric.  
  
"Well, it makes little difference to me. Sail us home to blighty at once!"  
  
Jack leaned away, but in amusement. He fiddled idly with a hair braid.  
  
"Why would I be doing that?"  
  
"Because I, 'Captain', am Lord Blackadder! Close friend of the Queen, who in turn is head of the British Navy! Fancy being hung on return to Port, do we?"  
  
Jack started to laugh. The crew, who had appeared in dribs and drabs on deck, began to chuckle to. Soon the air was filled with the promise of raucous laughter. Jack leaned in very close to Blackadder's face, staring directly into the appalled Lord's eyes.  
  
"That's all fine and nice, my 'Lord'. Just as well I'm not a member of the royal Navy, hmm?"  
  
Meltchett took some time to view at his surroundings. The black sails. The black wood. The crew of roughly clad and villainous men, with a particularly feisty looking female first mate. The 'Jolly Roger' flag, snapping back and forth overhead. He smiled benignly at Jack.  
  
"Merchant vessel this, hmm?"  
  
"Miss Swann, are you 'quite' sure Lord Blackadder isn't here?"  
  
"Positive, milady."  
  
Queen Elizabeth I took a dainty sip of tea. She gave the snuffling Lord Percy a withering glance.  
  
"Do shut up Percy! What is wrong with you?"  
  
Percy sniffed again. He dabbed a fairly feminine hanky to his eyes.  
  
"Nothing, milady. Just a little homesickness. I'm sure it'll pass."  
  
"Jolly good thing too! Don't want you blubbing all over my new friend's nice shiny floor."  
  
Elizabeth was sitting ramrod straight. She held her mug, cupped in her delicate hand. She felt pale and papery. And there, just opposite, a previous Queen of England sat, referring to her as friend. If she made one wrong move, she would be kneeling over a chopping block, waiting for the axe to fall.  
  
All the while, Will had been watching and listening to the flow of animated chatter. Fair enough, it was very one-sided. Queen Elizabeth seemed to have a great many opinions on everything. And his own Elizabeth seemed to be treading a thin and treacherous path around the conversation, attempting to be an interesting hostess, without being condemned to death.  
  
The short, disgustingly dirty man named, as Baldric never said a word. He just sat there, oozing smell. And, Will observed, his own special mix of mud, dung and other unpleasant substances onto the floor.  
  
"And, who exactly are you, Mr Turner?"  
  
Will gazed up from his inspection of the apparently brainless individual Baldric, into the face of another mentally challenged individual.  
  
"Oh, er. I'm Miss Swann's fiancé, milady!"  
  
Queen Elizabeth wrinkled her fabled nose. She sipped her tea. Then, a flirtatious smile crept onto her face.  
  
"Are you? Oh, what a pity..."  
  
She said, with honeyed sweetness. Elizabeth slowly looked up from her cup to the Queen.  
  
Will looked at the floor. Yet another disapproving noble.  
  
Baldric suddenly seemed hit by an idea.  
  
"Why's that, majesty? Seem like a nice couple o' people to me."  
  
Queen Elizabeth stared at him. She smiled sweeter at Will.  
  
"Yes. But Mr Turner is very handsome. I think he ought to marry someone with, oh I don't know, a prettier nose. Or someone who has lots of land and power, like a Queen!"  
  
Elizabeth began trying to bite her tongue in desperation. Will was blushing beetroot. He managed a half smile at the grinning Queen, before excusing himself hurriedly. He stood up to leave.  
  
"No! Did I say you could go?"  
  
"No, your majesty."  
  
Her face and voice became childish.  
  
"Well, don't worry this time!" She eyed his shoulders and face appreciatively. "Someone like you is far too pretty to be killed! But don't forget again, hmm?"  
  
"No, milady." Will sat down, closer to Elizabeth. She put a firm hand on his knee. The two Elizabeth's eyed each other like predators of the same prey. 


End file.
